


Parallel on the Other Side

by alphardhy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphardhy/pseuds/alphardhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones and Emma Swan, two complete strangers from different countries, discover one night that they are connected by a telepathic bond that even allows them to see, hear and feel what the other is experiencing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel on the Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Killian's thoughts will be in bold. Emma's thoughts will be in italics.
> 
> I watched In Your Eyes a few days ago and I felt the urge to write this. I hope you like it!

**But think of it, we don't even know what dinosaurs sound like.**

Emma has had weird conversations with herself while drunk. Weirdly weird conversations if she is being totally honest here. (The last one she remembers having had been about fake pockets and peanut butter. Gross. She had been sprawled on Elsa's couch that night, and apparently she had been thinking out loud, because her friend had spent the rest of the night laughing her ass off and singing—more like bawling—about how her peanuts knew what she did in the dark. Jesus Christ. Emma does not know how much they drank that night.) But she is sober now, one hundred percent sober, all curled up and cozy in her bed while doing her weekly crossword.  _So_. She has no idea where that thought has come from. Dinosaurs, what the hell, Emma. Sure, she does not know what dinosaurs sound like, but how on Earth are dinosaurs related to the four-letter word for 'Norse mythology source' she—

**Edda.**

_Eh-what?_

**That's the word, I believe?**

What the fuck. What. The. Actual. Fucking. Fuck. The thought comes out of nowhere again. The  _voice_  comes out of nowhere again, as low, soft and manly as before and—did she just say 'manly'? She is quite sure it is not David who is talking to her. He does not sound like that, at all. Plus he is not even there. Unless he has managed to open one of the windows and break in. But he is not the kind of man who goes around breaking into his friends' apartments to help them with crosswords. She is not making any sense, and suddenly her head feels like it is being squeezed, and for God's sake, what is going on. The whole situation is ridiculous. That is it, she is having a cold shower right now.

Easier said than done, though. Emma puts her crossword aside and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands, grimacing at the thought of having to leave the warm of her covers. It takes her at least five minutes to gather the courage to put her feet on the floor. She regrets it immediately, though, because as soon as her toes touch the parquet, she starts feeling even dizzier and her vision blacks out, as if a curtain had fallen over her eyes, as if someone had turned off the damn light. She stiffens, a lump in her throat and her mouth dry, and when the curse on the tip of her tongue resounds in her mind, she jumps. She jumps because it is that voice again, now swearing instead of talking about dinosaurs, and things stop making sense for Emma. Perhaps she is dreaming, right? Yeah, she must be—

**Bloody hell, what's going on?**

_Shit. I need to take that shower._

**But who takes a shower at 1 AM?**

_Now the voices in my head question my life choices, nice. Thank you, voices. It's very nice of you. And it's not even midnight, Emma, what the hell?_

**Hold on, 'Emma'. So I'm _actually_  talking to a real person? And for your information—**

_Of course I'm a real person! You, on the contrary, are just a voice inside my head, and I would appreciate it if you could just shut up._

**_As I was trying to say_** **, for your information, this voice happens to have a house, a job and a life. And rather dashing looks, by the way. My name's Killian.**

_Okay, it's official. I’m going insane._

**Look, love, I'm as clueless as you as to what is happening. I was sleeping like a babe and the next thing I know, I'm seeing a bedroom that is not mine in what I thought was a dream, and listening to someone's thoughts about—**

_Oh whoa, wait a minute, wait a minute. Did you just say that you can see_ my _bedroom?_

**Aye, part of it, I believe. The leather jacket could be mine, but not the lacy bra on the chair.**

Emma notices the smile on his voice, now quite teasing.  _Seriously, what even is this guy?_

**Relax. It's just a bra, not FBI classified information.**

The mind-reading thing, right. She cannot help but roll her eyes.

 _Anyway. How come you can see my bedroom_ but _I can't see yours?_

Emma has had weirdly weird conversations while drunk. But this one is purely surreal.

**I don't know. I just… do. I can see what's here, but I can also see what's there, though slightly blurry, I must say.**

The skin behind her right ear starts tickling out of the blue, as if someone were running their finger across that part of her body.

**Ah, the light. I turned it off before I went to bed. Give me a second.**

She hears footsteps in the back of her mind; silence; a click. Then her own heart is pounding in her ears because suddenly everything changes around her. She can still see her bedroom, of that there is no doubt. But she can also see three walls she is not familiar with, too. The walls are there, but far away, out of focus one could say. The dim orange light her lamp emits now blends into the soft white light that seems to come from his bedroom. She can see a single bed covered with a simple navy-blue comforter right next to one of the walls, as well as a wood desk. There are several journals on the desk, all neatly organized, and Emma notices a small framed picture, too. He must be in there, but the people in the picture are nothing but blurred figures for her.

**Better?**

His voice snaps her out of her reverie.

_That's... a lot to take in._

**I still don't—**

_Wait. God, I keep interrupting you, I'm sorry._

**No, no, it's okay. Go on.**

_Okay... You said that it was 1 AM earlier, didn't you?_

**Aye, that I said.**

_So... where are you? I mean, yeah, you're in my head, which is still freaking me out, by the way. But you're also in your bedroom. Where's your bedroom?_

He laughs, the sound surprisingly warm, and Emma feels the corner of her lips tilt up.

**Exeter, England. It's quite a lovely place.**

_England?!_

**I assume from your tone that you live on the other side of the world?**

_Well, I live in Boston._

**Boston, bloody hell.**

_Yeah._

**_So,_ ** **to sum up, we live in different countries, but we somehow have developed an odd telepathic bond that, God knows why and how, allows us to hear each other's thoughts _and_  see what the other sees.**

Emma lets out a shaky laugh, rubbing her temples.

_Crazy, right?_

He agrees with her between yawns, and Emma suddenly feels guilty for keeping him awake. It must be almost 2 AM there after all.

_Hey, are you tired? We can keep talking about all this tomorrow. If you want._

**Apologies, love. It has been a long day after all and I guess that sleep is claiming me again. But it'd be a pleasure to talk to you tomorrow.**

_Are you free at 5? 5 PM, I mean._

**That'd be... 10 for me? Yes, I'll be free by then. Ah, one last thing. Could you give me your number? Just in case our... connection didn't work for some reason. I still have to get the hang of this.**

Truth to be told, that's the worst pick-up line Emma has ever heard. (She does not find it oddly adorable. She does not find  _him_  oddly adorable either, thank you very much.)

**Oi, I just wanted to make sure that we would be able to talk tomorrow! But thank you for thinking I'm adorable, though I prefer 'charming' or 'devilishly handsome'.**

The mind-reading thing again. Well. That was awkward. She ignores his response—tries to ignore the blush creeping up her cheeks, too—and simply tells him her number.

_So... I think we should sleep. It's getting late._

**Aye, we should. And Emma?**

_Yes?_

**It was nice meeting you.**

Killian's voice sounds even softer now, and her smile spreads.

_It was nice meeting you too, Killian. Good night._

**Good night.**

Emma hears him go back to bed after turning the light off again, and a few minutes later, her eyes drift shut.


End file.
